Anime salve: Dolcenera

Amìala ch'â l'arìa amìa cum'â l'é cum'â l'é   amiala cum'â l'aria amìa ch'â l'è lê ch'â l'è lê   amiala cum'â l'aria amìa amia cum'â l'è   amiala ch'â l'arìa amia ch'â l'è lê ch'â l'è lê   Guardala che arriva guarda com'è com'è   guardala come arriva guarda che è lei che è lei   guardala come arriva guarda guarda com'è   guardala che arriva che è lei che è lei nera che porta via che porta via la via nera che non si vedeva da una vita intera così dolcenera nera nera che picchia forte che butta giù le porte   nu l'è l'aegua ch'à fá baggiá   imbaggiâ imbaggiâ   Non è l'acqua che fa sbadigliare   chiudere porte e finestre chiudere porte e finestre nera di malasorte che ammazza e passa oltre nera come la sfortuna che si fa la tana dove non c'è luna luna nera di falde amare che passano le bare   âtru da stramûâ   â nu n'á â nu n'á   Altro da traslocare   non ne ha non ne ha ma la moglie di Anselmo non lo deve sapere ché è venuta per me è arrivata da un'ora e l'amore ha l'amore come solo argomento e il tumulto del cielo ha sbagliato momento acqua che non si aspetta altro che benedetta acqua che porta male sale dalle scale sale senza sale sale acqua che spacca il monte che affonda terra e ponte   nu l'è l'aaegua de 'na rammâ   'n calabà 'n calabà   Non è l'acqua di un colpo di pioggia   (ma) un gran casino un gran casino ma la moglie di Anselmo sta sognando del mare quando ingorga gli anfratti si ritira e risale e il lenzuolo si gonfia sul cavo dell'onda e la lotta si fa scivolosa e profonda   amiala cum'â l'aria amìa cum'â l'è cum'â l'è   amiala cum'â l'aria amia ch'â l'è lê ch'â l'è lê   Guardala come arriva guarda com'è com'è   guardala come arriva guarda che è lei che è lei acqua di spilli fitti dal cielo e dai soffitti acqua per fotografie per cercare i complici da maledire acqua che stringe i fianchi tonnara di passanti   âtru da camallâ   â nu n'à â nu n'à   Altro da mettersi in spalla   non ne ha non ne ha oltre il muro dei vetri si risveglia la vita che si prende per mano a battaglia finita come fa questo amore che dall'ansia di perdersi ha avuto in un giorno la certezza di aversi acqua che ha fatto sera che adesso si ritira bassa sfila tra la gente come un innocente che non c'entra niente fredda come un dolore Dolcenera senza cuore   atru de rebellâ   â nu n'à â nu n'à   Altro da trascinare   non ne ha non ne ha e la moglie di Anselmo sente l'acqua che scende dai vestiti incollati da ogni gelo di pelle nel suo tram scollegato da ogni distanza nel bel mezzo del tempo che adesso le avanza così fu quell'amore dal mancato finale così splendido e vero da potervi ingannare   Amìala ch'â l'arìa amìa cum'â l'é cum'â l'é   amiala cum'â l'aria amìa ch'â l'è lê ch'â l'è lê   amiala cum'â l'aria amìa amia cum'â l'è   amiala ch'â l'arìa amia ch'â l'è lê ch'â l'è lê   Guardala che arriva guarda com'è com'è   guardala come arriva guarda che è lei che è lei   guardala come arriva guarda guarda com'è   guardala che arriva che è lei che è lei Dolcenera © 1996 Fabrizio De André/Ivano Fossati "Dolcenera" is about a tryst that never came about due to the disruption of a major flood, such as occurred in Genoa in 1970. The term "dolcenera" refers to the dual nature of water - sweet when it is pure and life-giving, and black when it is fouled and out of control as in a flood. Against the backdrop of the flood, a man watches and waits anxiously for the woman to arrive. But it never happens, as she is stranded in a tram, unable to reach any distance, deceived and disappointed by the promise of an adulterous love that never came to pass. The theme of solitude in this song plays out as the loneliness of two lovers who are unable to meet. 1970 flood of Genoa

Look at her who’s arriving, what’s she like what’s she like? Watch her as she arrives, watch that it’s her, that it’s her. Watch her as she arrives, watch, watch, what’s she like? Look at her who’s arriving, that it’s her, that it’s her. Black that carries away that carries away the way, black not seen in an entire lifetime, so sweetblack, black, black that beats up, that knocks down the doors. It’s not the water that makes you yawn, but closing doors and windows, closing doors and windows. Black of bad luck that kills and moves on, black like the misfortune of making a den where there’s no moon, moon, black of bitter layers that pass the coffins. Other things to move, it has none, it has none. But the wife of Anselmo doesn’t have to know it, because she came for me, she arrived an hour ago, and love has love as its only subject matter, and the turmoil in the sky has the wrong time. Water you don't expect to be other than benediction, water that brings evil rises, up the stairs it rises, unsalty it rises, water that smashes the mountain, that sinks land and bridge. It’s not the water of a rain shower, but a big mess, a big mess. But the wife of Anselmo is dreaming of the sea – when it engorges the crevices, pulls back, and rises again, and the sheet swells in the hollow of the wave, and the struggle gets slippery and profound. Look at her as she arrives, look, how is she, how is she? Look at her as she arrives, look that it’s her, that it’s her. Water like driven pins from the sky and from the ceilings, water for photographs, for searching out accomplices to curse at, water that squeezes the hips, tuna nets for passersby. Other things to shoulder off, it has none, it has none. Beyond the wall of windowpanes, life awakens, that one takes by the hand at battle's end, as does this love that, from the anxiety of getting lost, had in one day the certainty of happening. Water that proceeded 'til evening, that now pulls back, ebbed, it parades among the people like an innocent who enters nowhere, cold like a sorrow, heartless Dolcenera. Other things to drag away, it has none, it has none. And the wife of Anselmo feels the water that falls from the clinging clothes, from every chill of the skin, in her tram disconnected from every distance, in the very midst of the time that now advances on her. Such was that love from the missed ending, so splendid and true as to be able to fool you. Look at her who’s arriving, look, how is she, how is she? Watch her as she arrives, watch that it’s her, that it’s her. Watch her as she arrives, watch, watch, what’s she like? Look at her who’s arriving, that it’s her, that it’s her. English translation © 2014 Dennis Criteser Anime salve was released in 1996, the last of De André's thirteen studio albums. The songs were co-written by De André and Ivano Fossati, and the studio recording was co-produced by De André and Piero Milesi. De André referred to the album both as "a type of eulogy for solitude" and "a discourse on freedom." Here you will discover an album with De André at his full powers as lyricist and singer with his rich baritone in a musical setting that is striking, musically sophisticated and varied, with musical references to South America, the Balkans and the Mediterranean. The album was voted best Italian album of 1997 by the readers of La Repubblica and critics voted De André as the best Italian artist. The album also received the prestigious Targa Tenco prize for best album of 1997.

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Anime salve Le acciughe fanno il pallone The Anchovies Make a Ball

Le acciughe fanno il pallone che sotto c'è l'alalunga se non butti la rete non te ne lascia una e alla riva sbarcherò alla riva verrà la gente questi pesci sorpresi li venderò per niente se sbarcherò alla foce e alla foce non c'è nessuno e la faccia mi laverò nell'acqua del torrente ogni tre ami c'è una stella marina amo per amo c'è una stella che trema ogni tre lacrime batte la campana passano le villeggianti con gli occhi di vetro scuro passan sotto le reti che asciugano sul muro e in mare c'è una fortuna che viene dall'oriente che tutti l'hanno vista e nessuno la prende ogni tre ami c'è una stella marina ogni tre stelle c'è un aereo che vola ogni tre notti un sogno che mi consola bottiglia legata stretta come un'esca da trascinare sorso di vena dolce che liberi dal male se prendo il pesce d'oro ve la farò vedere se prendo il pesce d'oro mi sposerò all'altare ogni tre ami c'è una stella marina ogni tre stelle c'è un aereo che vola ogni balcone una bocca che m'innamora ogni tre ami c'è una stella marina ogni tre stelle c'è un aereo che vola ogni balcone una bocca che m'innamora le acciughe fanno il pallone che sotto c'è l'alalunga se non butti la rete non te ne resta una non te ne lascia una non te ne lascia Le acciughe fanno il pallone © 1996 Fabrizio De André/Ivano Fossati "Le acciughe fanno il pallone" tells of a fisherman whose solitude is due to poverty. He is in competition with a tuna for the anchovies he fishes for, and faces an uncertain market demand onshore for his catch even then. He can only dream of catching a golden fish that would improve his circumstances and allow him to marry. The musical tag at the end of the song is a wonderful example of the multiculti influences on the album - a middle-Eastern shehnai playing over an African-inspired bed of rhythm along with a Cuban tumbao in the bass.

The anchovies make a ball because underneath there’s an albacore. If you don’t cast out the net, not one of them will be left for you. And at the shore I’ll disembark, to the shore will come people. These surprised fish, I’ll sell them for nothing if I disembark at the mouth of the river and at the river’s mouth there’s no one, and I’ll wash my face in the water of the stream. Every three hooks there’s a starfish. Hook by hook there’s a star that trembles. Every three tears the bell marks the time. Vacationers pass with their sunglassed eyes, they pass under the nets that dry on the wall. And in the sea there’s a fortune that comes from the east, that everyone has seen and no one catches. Every three hooks there’s a starfish. Every three stars there’s an airplane that flies. Every three nights there’s a dream that consoles me. Bottle bound tight like bait for dragging, draft in a sweet vein that you free from harm. If I catch the golden fish I’ll show it to you. If I catch the golden fish I’ll get married at the altar. Every three hooks there’s a star fish. Every three stars there’s an airplane that flies. Every balcony there’s a mouth that charms me. Every three hooks there’s a star fish. Every three stars there’s an airplane that flies. Every balcony there’s a mouth that charms me. The anchovies make a ball, because underneath there’s a tuna. If you don’t cast the net, not one of them will remain for you, not one of them will be left for you, none of them will be left for you. English translation © 2014 Dennis Criteser Anime salve was released in 1996, the last of De André's thirteen studio albums. The songs were co-written by De André and Ivano Fossati, and the studio recording was co-produced by De André and Piero Milesi. De André referred to the album both as "a type of eulogy for solitude" and "a discourse on freedom." Here you will discover an album with De André at his full powers as lyricist and singer with his rich baritone in a musical setting that is striking, musically sophisticated and varied, with musical references to South America, the Balkans and the Mediterranean. The album was voted best Italian album of 1997 by the readers of La Repubblica and critics voted De André as the best Italian artist. The album also received the prestigious Targa Tenco prize for best album of 1997.

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Anime salve: Disamistade - Blood Feud

Che ci fanno queste anime davanti alla chiesa questa gente divisa questa storia sospesa a misura di braccio a distanza di offesa che alla pace si pensa che la pace si sfiora due famiglie disarmate di sangue si schierano a resa e per tutti il dolore degli altri è dolore a metà si accontenta di cause leggere la guerra del cuore il lamento di un cane abbattuto da un'ombra di passo si soddisfa di brevi agonie sulla strada di casa uno scoppio di sangue un'assenza apparecchiata per cena e a ogni sparo di caccia all'intorno si domanda fortuna che ci fanno queste figlie a ricamare a cucire queste macchie di lutto rinunciate all'amore fra di loro si nasconde una speranza smarrita che il nemico la vuole che la vuol restituita e una fretta di mani sorprese a toccare le mani che dev'esserci un modo di vivere senza dolore una corsa degli occhi negli occhi a scoprire che invece è soltanto un riposo del vento un odiare a metà e alla parte che manca si dedica l'autorità che la disamistade si oppone alla nostra sventura questa corsa del tempo a sparigliare destini e fortuna che ci fanno queste anime davanti alla chiesa questa gente divisa questa storia sospesa Disamistade © 1996 Fabrizio De André/Ivano Fossati "Disamistade" is about blood feuds, which until quite recently were common in Sardinia, and which are probably still bubbling under the surface there according to these articles on a 2007 vendetta killing of a poet and a subsequent possible vindication. In contrast with the other songs on this album, which portray different faces of solitude, this song is about a violence that can happen when people live in close proximity to each other, where envies and slights can fester and erupt into killings that continue in an unending progression as one spilling of blood must be avenged by another. "Disamistade" was translated to English and covered by the American folk/rock band The Walkabouts.

What are they doing, these souls in front of the church, this people divided, this history on hold? At arm's length away, at the distance of an offence, that peace is considered, a brush with peace, two blood families, unarmed, line up to surrender, and for everyone the pain of the others is halfway pain. It contents itself with lightweight causes, the war of the heart: the lament of a dog felled by a passing shadow. It satisfies itself with quick agonies on the way home: a burst of blood, an absence set at the dinner table. And at every gunshot of the hunt hereabouts, one asks for good fortune. What are these children doing embroidering, sewing these patches of mourning, having given up on love? Among them is hiding a misplaced hope that the enemy wants, that he wants back. And a rush of hands, surprised to touch the hands, for there must be a way to live without sorrow. A race of eyes, in the eyes to discover that instead it’s merely a resting of the wind, a hatred halfway through, and to the missing part the authorities are dedicated. 'Cause the blood feud counters our woe, this passing of time, by breaking up a pair: destinies and good fortune. What are these souls doing in front of the church, this people divided, this history on hold? English translation © 2014 Dennis Criteser Anime salve was released in 1996, the last of De André's thirteen studio albums. The songs were co-written by De André and Ivano Fossati, and the studio recording was co-produced by De André and Piero Milesi. De André referred to the album both as "a type of eulogy for solitude" and "a discourse on freedom." Here you will discover an album with De André at his full powers as lyricist and singer with his rich baritone in a musical setting that is striking, musically sophisticated and varied, with musical references to South America, the Balkans and the Mediterranean. The album was voted best Italian album of 1997 by the readers of La Repubblica and critics voted De André as the best Italian artist. The album also received the prestigious Targa Tenco prize for best album of 1997.

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Anime salve  cúmba - The Dove

Pretendente: Gh'aivu 'na bella cùmba ch'à l'é xeûa foea de cà gianca cun'à néie ch'à deslengue a cian d'à sâ   Duv'a l'é duv'a l'é duv'a duv'a l'é Avevo una bella colomba che è volata fuori casa bianca come la neve che si scioglie a pian del sale   dov'è dov'è dove dov'è che l'han vursciua vedde cegâ l'àe a stù casâ spéita cume l'aigua ch'à derua zû p'ou rià   Nu ghe n'é nu ghe nu ghe n'é nu ghe n'é che l'hanno vista piegare le ali verso questo casale veloce come l'acqua che precipita dal rio   non ce n'è non ce non ce n'è non ce n'è Padre: Cau ou mè zuenottu ve porta miga na smangiaxun che se cuscì fise puriesci anàvene 'n gattixun Nu ghe n'é nu ghe n'é nu ghe n'é nu ghe nu ghe n'é Caro il mio giovanotto non vi porta mica qualche prurito che se così fosse potreste andarvene in giro per amorazzi   non ce n'è non ce n'è non ce n'è non ce non ce n'è Pretendente: Vegnu d'â câ du rattu ch'ou magun ou sliga i pë Vegnu c'ou coeu marottu de 'na pasciun che nu ghe n'è nu ghe n'è Vengo dalla casa del topo che l'angoscia slega i piedi Vengo con il cuore malato di una passione che non ha uguali Padre: Chi de cumbe d'âtri ne n'é vegnûe nu se n'é pose Chi gh'é 'na cumba gianca ch'â nu l'é â vostra ch'â l'é a me nu ghe n'é   âtre nu ghe n'é âtre nu ghe n'é nu ghe n'é Qui di colombe d'altri non ne son venute non se ne son posate Qui c'è una colomba bianca che non è la vostra che è la mia non ce n'è   Altre non ce n'è altre non ce n'è non ce n'è Coro:   A l'e xëuâ â l'é xëuâ a cumba gianca   A l'e xëuâ â l'é xëuâ au cian d'â sâ   A l'e xëuâ â l'é xëuâ â cumba gianca   de mazu â truvian au cian d'ou pan.   E' volata è volata la colomba bianca   E' volata è volata a pian del sale   E' volata è volata la colomba bianca   di maggio la troveranno al pian del pane Pretendente: Vui nu vuriesci dàmela sta cumba da maiâ gianca cum'â neie ch'à deslengue 'nt où rià   Nu ghe n'é nu ghe n'é Voi non vorreste darmela questa colomba da maritare bianca come la neve che si scioglie nel rio.   non ce n'è non ce n'è Padre: Miæ che sta comba bella a stâ de longo a barbacîo che no m'a pòsse vedde a scricchî 'nte 'n atro nîo nu ghe n'é   Nu ghe n'é nu ghe n'é Guardate che questa colomba bella sta sempre a cinguettio che non la possa vedere crescere in un altro nido non ce n'è.   non ce n'è non ce n'è Pretendente: A tegnio à dindanàse suttà 'n angiou de melgranâ cù a cua ch'ou l'ha d'â sèa â man lingèa d'ou bambaxia   Duv'a duv'a l'é duv'a duv'a l'é duv'a l'é duv'a l'é La terrò a dondolarsi sotto una pergola di melograni con la cura che ha della seta la mano leggera del bambagiaio   dove dov'è dove dov'è dov'è dov'è Padre: Zuenu ch'âei bén parlòu 'nte sta seian-a de frevâ Saèi che sta cumba à mazu a xeuâ d'â më 'nt â vostra câ Giovane che avete ben parlato in questa sera di febbraio Sappiate che questa colomba a maggio volerà dalla mia nella vostra casa Pretendente: A tegnio à dindanàse suttà 'n angiou de melgranâ Cu 'â cua ch'ou l'ha d'â sea â mân lingea d'ou bambaxia   âtre nu ghe n'é nu ghe nu ghe n'é âtre nu ghe n'é La terrò a dondolarsi sotto una pergola di melograni Con la cura che ha della seta la mano leggera del bambagiaio   Altre non ce n'è non ce non ce n'è altre non ce n'è Coro:   A l'e xëuâ â l'é xëuâ a cumba gianca   de noette â l'é xëuâ au cian d'â sâ   A truvian â truvian â cumba gianca   de mazu â truvian au cian d'ou pan.   E' volata è volata la colomba bianca   di notte è volata a pian del sale   La troveranno la troveranno la colomba bianca   di maggio la troveranno a pian del pane   Duv'a l'é duv'a l'é ch'â ne s'ascunde   se maia se maia au cian dou pan   cum'a l'é cum'a l'é l'é cum'â neie   ch'â ven zu deslenguâ da où rià.   dov'è dov'è che ci si nasconde   si sposerà si sposerà a pian del pane   Com'è com'è è come la neve   che viene giù sciolta dal rio   A l'e xëuâ â l'é xëuâ a cumba gianca   de mazu â truvian au cian d'â sâ   Duv'a l'é duv'a l'é ch'â ne s'ascunde   se maia se maia au cian dou pan   E' volata è volata la colomba bianca   di maggio la troveranno al pian del sale   dov'è dov'è che ci si nasconde   si sposerà si sposerà al pian del pane Cùmba cumbétta beccu de séa sérva à striggiùn c'ou maiu 'n giandùn Martin ou và à pë cun' l'aze deré foegu de légne anime in çé. Colomba colombina becco di seta serva a strofinare per terra col marito a zonzo Martino va a piedi con l'asino dietro fuoco di legna anime in cielo Cùmba cumbétta beccu de séa sérva à striggiùn c'ou maiu 'n giandùn Martin ou và à pë cun' l'aze deré foegu de légne anime in çé. Colomba colombina becco di seta serva a strofinare per terra col marito a zonzo Martino va a piedi con l'asino dietro fuoco di legna anime in cielo  cúmba © 1996 Fabrizio De André/Ivano Fossati " cúmba" is in sharp contrast to "Disamistade." It presents the possibility that a confrontation (between the suitor and the protective father) can end in agreement between simple people, far from the central authority of the state. The percussion in the song, beginning around 1:09, comes from a fragment of a recording by the Japanese taiko drum group Kodō that Piero Milesi found in his music collection after a long search to find just the right rhythm for the song.

Suitor: I had a beautiful dove that flew out of the house, white like the snow that melts on the salt plain,   (Where is it, where is it?) that they saw fold its wings near this farmhouse, fast like the water that rushes from the stream.   (There isn’t one, no there no there isn’t one, there isn’t one.) Father: My dear young man, are you not carrying an itch in your pants, that if it were this way, you could go out and about for a quickie.   (There isn’t one, there isn’t one, there isn’t one, no there no there isn’t one.) Suitor: I come from the house of the rat where anguish unbinds the feet, I come with a heart aching from a passion that has no equal. Father: Here none of the others’ doves have come, not if they were sitting. Here there’s a white dove that isn’t yours, that is mine, there isn’t one.   (There aren’t any others, there aren’t any others, there isn’t one) Chorus: She’s flown, she’s flown, the white dove, she’s flown, she’s flown to the salt plain. She’s flown, she’s flown, the white dove, in May they’ll find her at the bread plain. Suitor: Would you not like to give me this dove to marry? White like the snow that dissolves in the stream.   (There isn’t one, there isn’t one.) Father: See that this beautiful dove is always chirping, that I can’t see her growing up in another nest, there isn’t one.   (There isn’t one, there isn’t one.) Suitor: I held her swaying under a pomegranate arbor, with the care the light hand of a mollycoddler has with silk.   (Where where is she, where where is she, where is she,   where is she?) Father: Young man who spoke well this February evening, you know that this dove in May will fly from my to your house. Suitor: I held her swaying under a pomegranate arbor, with the care the light hand of a mollycoddler has with silk..   (Others there aren’t any, there aren’t there aren’t any,   there aren’t any of them.) Chorus: She flew, she flew, the white dove. At night she flew to the salt plain. They’ll find her, they’ll find her, the white dove. In May they’ll find her at the bread plain. Where is she, where is she who is hiding there? She’ll marry, she’ll marry at the bread plain. How is she, how is she? She’s like the snow that comes down dissolved by the stream. She flew, she flew, the white dove. In May they’ll find her in the salt plain. Where is she, where is she who is hiding there? She’ll marry, she’ll marry in the bread plain. Dove, little dove, beak of silk, maid scrubbing the floor with your husband out wandering. Martino goes by foot with his donkey behind, wood fire, spirits in heaven. Dove, little dove, beak of silk, maid scrubbing the floor with your husband out wandering. Martino goes by foot with his donkey behind, wood fire, spirits in heaven. English translation © 2014 Dennis Criteser Anime salve was released in 1996, the last of De André's thirteen studio albums. The songs were co-written by De André and Ivano Fossati, and the studio recording was co-produced by De André and Piero Milesi. De André referred to the album both as "a type of eulogy for solitude" and "a discourse on freedom." Here you will discover an album with De André at his full powers as lyricist and singer with his rich baritone in a musical setting that is striking, musically sophisticated and varied, with musical references to South America, the Balkans and the Mediterranean. The album was voted best Italian album of 1997 by the readers of La Repubblica and critics voted De André as the best Italian artist. The album also received the prestigious Targa Tenco prize for best album of 1997.

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Anime salve Ho visto Nina volare - I Saw Nina Flying

Mastica e sputa da una parte il miele mastica e sputa dall'altra la cera mastica e sputa prima che venga neve luce luce lontana più bassa delle stelle sarà la stessa mano che ti accende e ti spegne ho visto Nina volare tra le corde dell'altalena un giorno la prenderò come fa il vento alla schiena e se lo sa mio padre dovrò cambiar paese se mio padre lo sa mi imbarcherò sul mare Mastica e sputa da una parte il miele mastica e sputa dall'altra la cera mastica e sputa prima che faccia neve stanotte è venuta l'ombra l'ombra che mi fa il verso le ho mostrato il coltello e la mia maschera di gelso e se lo sa mio padre mi metterò in cammino se mio padre lo sa mi imbarcherò lontano mastica e sputa da una parte la cera mastica e sputa dall'altra parte il miele mastica e sputa prima che metta neve ho visto Nina volare tra le corde dell'altalena un giorno la prenderò come fa il vento alla schiena luce luce lontana che si accende e si spegne quale sarà la mano che illumina le stelle mastica e sputa prima che venga neve Ho visto Nina volare © 1996 Fabrizio De André/Ivano Fossati "Ho visto Nina volare" derives its title from De André's childhood when he lived in the mountains during the war and his childhood playmate was a girl named Nina. The opening and recurring verse about chewing and spitting stems from De André and Fossati having observed old women beekeepers in southern Italy doing just that in order to separate honey from the wax. The image is a wonderful symbol for the old traditional ways that know how to make use of the gifts of nature, and refers to the central theme of the song - the desire of the young to grow up and become independent, to move out from under the authority of the elders, while at the same time being fearful of the unknown. The song is enchanting in its simplicity, and unlike all the other songs on this album, which were reworked and refined intensely, "Ho visto Nina volare" came together within the course of an hour. De André had been working on a lyric inspired by a traditional song he had heard covered by Caetano Veloso, and Fossati had been refining independently a delicate guitar part that had taken shape over a few days. When De André asked Fossati to listen to his lyric, Fossati immediately thought it would go with his guitar. The combination worked and was in final form in just 40 minutes.

Chew and spit, into one part the honey, chew and spit, into the other the wax. Chew and spit, before the snow comes. Light, distant light, lower than the stars, it will be the very same hand that turns you on and turns you off. I saw Nina flying between the ropes of the swing. One day I’ll take her as does the wind at her back. And if my father knows about it, I'll have to change locales. If my father knows of it, I’ll embark on the sea. Chew and spit, into one part the honey, chew and spit, into the other the wax. Chew and spit, before it gets snowy. Tonight a shadow has come, a shadow that imitates me. I showed it the knife and my mulberry mask, and if my father knows about it, I’ll take to the road. If my father knows of it, I’ll embark for afar. Chew and spit, into one part the wax, chew and spit, into the other part the honey. Chew and spit, before the snow sets in. I saw Nina flying between the ropes of the swing. One day I’ll take her as does the wind at her back. Light, distant light that turns on and turns off. Which will be the hand that lights up the stars? Chew and spit, before the snow comes. English translation © 2014 Dennis Criteser Anime salve was released in 1996, the last of De André's thirteen studio albums. The songs were co-written by De André and Ivano Fossati, and the studio recording was co-produced by De André and Piero Milesi. De André referred to the album both as "a type of eulogy for solitude" and "a discourse on freedom." Here you will discover an album with De André at his full powers as lyricist and singer with his rich baritone in a musical setting that is striking, musically sophisticated and varied, with musical references to South America, the Balkans and the Mediterranean. The album was voted best Italian album of 1997 by the readers of La Repubblica and critics voted De André as the best Italian artist. The album also received the prestigious Targa Tenco prize for best album of 1997.

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Anime salve Smisurata preghiera - Boundless Prayer

Alta sui naufragi dai belvedere delle torri china e distante sugli elementi del disastro dalle cose che accadono al disopra delle parole celebrative del nulla lungo un facile vento di sazietà di impunità Sullo scandalo metallico di armi in uso e in disuso a guidare la colonna di dolore e di fumo che lascia le infinite battaglie al calar della sera la maggioranza sta la maggioranza sta recitando un rosario di ambizioni meschine di millenarie paure di inesauribili astuzie coltivando tranquilla l'orribile varietà delle proprie superbie la maggioranza sta come una malattia come una sfortuna come un'anestesia come un'abitudine per chi viaggia in direzione ostinata e contraria col suo marchio speciale di speciale disperazione e tra il vomito dei respinti muove gli ultimi passi per consegnare alla morte una goccia di splendore di umanità di verità per chi ad Aqaba curò la lebbra con uno scettro posticcio e seminò il suo passaggio di gelosie devastatrici e di figli con improbabili nomi di cantanti di tango in un vasto programma di eternità ricorda Signore questi servi disobbedienti alle leggi del branco non dimenticare il loro volto che dopo tanto sbandare è appena giusto che la fortuna li aiuti come una svista come un'anomalia come una distrazione come un dovere Smisurata preghiera © 1996 Fabrizio De André/Ivano Fossati "Smisurata preghiera" is a song where again the lyrics were from De André and the music from Fossati. Five years prior, De André had discovered the writings of the Colombian Alvaro Mutis. He was so taken with them that he reached out to Mutis and asked if he would have any objections to De André taking lines from his books to use in a song he wanted to write. Mutis was game, and De André proceeded to use lines from two novels and one anthology of poems, putting them together and rearranging and changing them until he had built the song he had in mind. To give a couple examples, the opening lines of the song - "High above the shipwrecks from the viewpoint of the towers" comes from Mutis's poem "Stars for Arthur Rimbaud" which includes the line "And from the viewpoint of the highest tower." From another poem, "The Elements of Disaster," De André wove the title into the line "bowed and distant over the elements of disaster." In the first half of the song De André posits a cultural majority that stands above the disastrous fray, insensitive, prideful, small of spirit and going along with the world as it is. The second half of the song brings in those who go their own way, against the tide of the mainstream culture, and De André would include in this mix all marginalized people - the poor, social outcasts, and rebels of many stripes. The song then becomes an invocation and prayer that these "servants disobedient to the laws of the herd" will also be held in the Lord's thoughts and that, perhaps, some good fortune will, even ought, to come their way. "For one who travels in a direction stubborn and contrary, with his special mark of special desperation, and through the vomit of the rejected, he moves the final steps to deliver to death a drop of splendor, of humanity, of truth."

High above the shipwrecks from the lookouts of the towers, bowed and distant over the elements of disaster from the things that happen above the words commemorative of nothing, along an easy wind of satiety, of impunity, on the metallic scandal of arms in use or disuse for guiding the column of sadness and smoke that leaves the infinite battles at the falling of night, the majority stands, the majority stands. Reciting a rosary of petty ambitions, of thousand-year-old fears, of inexhaustible tricks, cultivating calm, the terrible variety of their own arrogances, the majority stands. Like an illness, like a misfortune, like an anesthetic, like a habit. For one who travels in a direction stubborn and contrary, with his special mark of special desperation, and through the vomit of the rejected, he moves the final steps to deliver unto death a drop of splendor, of humanity, of truth. For him who at Aqaba cured leprosy with a faux scepter and sowed his passage with devastating jealousies and children with improbable names, with singers of tango in a vast program of eternity. Remember, Lord, these servants disobedient to the laws of the herd. Don’t forget their face that, after so much disbanding, it’s just right that luck helps them. Like an oversight, like an anomaly, like a distraction, like a duty. English translation © 2014 Dennis Criteser Anime salve was released in 1996, the last of De André's thirteen studio albums. The songs were co-written by De André and Ivano Fossati, and the studio recording was co-produced by De André and Piero Milesi. De André referred to the album both as "a type of eulogy for solitude" and "a discourse on freedom." Here you will discover an album with De André at his full powers as lyricist and singer with his rich baritone in a musical setting that is striking, musically sophisticated and varied, with musical references to South America, the Balkans and the Mediterranean. The album was voted best Italian album of 1997 by the readers of La Repubblica and critics voted De André as the best Italian artist. The album also received the prestigious Targa Tenco prize for best album of 1997. Ivano Fossati

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Le nuvole: Le nuvole - Clouds

Vanno vengono ogni tanto si fermano e quando si fermano sono nere come il corvo sembra che ti guardano con malocchio Certe volte sono bianche e corrono e prendono la forma dell'airone o della pecora o di qualche altra bestia ma questo lo vedono meglio i bambini che giocano a corrergli dietro per tanti metri Certe volte ti avvisano con rumore prima di arrivare e la terra si trema e gli animali si stanno zitti certe volte ti avvisano con rumore Vengono vanno ritornano e magari si fermano tanti giorni che non vedi più il sole e le stelle e ti sembra di non conoscere più il posto dove stai Vanno vengono per una vera mille sono finte e si mettono li tra noi e il cielo per lasciarci soltanto una voglia di pioggia. Le nuvole © 1990 Fabrizio De André/Mauro Pagani For the opening song of the album, De André chose to have the lyrics recited by two women, one old and one young, who "represented Mother Earth." But the clouds are not intended to be clouds in the sky. "They are these intrusive and damaging characters of our civic, political and economic life that I'm trying to describe in the first part of the album, along with some of their victims. These clouds are the figures who hold power, with all of their arrogance, as bad examples. I was inspired by Aristophanes. . . . My clouds are all those who are terrified of the new, because the new could subvert their positions of power."

They go, they come, every so often they stop, and when they stop they are black like the crow. It seems they’re giving you the evil eye. Certain times they are white and they run and they take the form of the egret, or of the ram or of some other beast. But this they see better, the children, who play at running after them for so many meters. Certain times they warn you with noise before arriving and the earth trembles and the animals stay still. Certain times they warn you with noise. They come, they go, they return, and maybe they stop for so many days that you no longer see the sun or the stars, and you don’t seem to know any more the place where you are. They go, they come. For every true one a thousand are fake and were put there between us and the sky to leave us with only a longing for rain. English translation © 2014 Dennis Criteser It took six years after the tremendous success of Creuza de mä for De André to release his next studio album, Le nuvole (The Clouds). In the meantime, he and Mauro Pagani explored several avenues of musical collaboration which did not come to fruition. De André had this to say about Le nuvole: "I realized that people are just pissed off, and since Le nuvole is a symbol of this dissatisfaction, the transference, the intermediary for this general discontent, I would say that the album was welcomed almost as a banner, like an emblem of the anger in the face of a nation that is going to the dogs, and certainly not through any fault of the citizens." Additionally, Mauro Pagani said the album was a fantastic description of Italy in the 1980s, with parallels to Europe in the early 1800s: "Italy in the early 1980s was like Europe in 1815: the Congress of Vienna, the fall of the Napoleonic empire, the sharing of the goods among the winning powers, social classes built on wealth instead of aristocracy, a society of fake Christianity . . ." The title of and inspiration for the album came from the comedy of the same name by Aristophanes, whom De André greatly admired.

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Le nuvole: Ottocento - The Eighteen Hundreds

Cantami di questo tempo l'astio e il malcontento di chi è sottovento e non vuol sentir l'odore di questo motor che ci porta avanti quasi tutti quanti maschi , femmine e cantanti su un tappeto di contanti nel cielo blu Figlia della mia famiglia sei la meraviglia già matura e ancora pura come la verdura di papà Figlio bello e audace bronzo di Versace figlio sempre più capace di giocare in borsa di stuprare in corsa e tu moglie dalle larghe maglie dalle molte voglie esperta di anticaglie scatole d'argento ti regalerò Ottocento Novecento Millecinquecento scatole d'argento Fine Settecento ti regalerò Quanti pezzi di ricambio quante meraviglie quanti articoli di scambio quante belle figlie da sposar e quante belle valvole e pistoni fegati e polmoni e quante belle biglie a rotolar e quante belle triglie nel mar Figlio figlio povero figlio eri bello bianco e vermiglio quale intruglio ti ha perduto nel Naviglio figlio figlio unico sbaglio annegato come un coniglio per ferirmi , pugnalarmi nell'orgoglio a me a me che ti trattavo come un figlio povero me domani andrà meglio Eine kleine pinzimonie wunder matrimonie krauten und erbeeren und patellen und arsellen fischen Zanzibar und einige krapfen früer vor schlafen und erwachen mit der walzer und die Alka-Seltzer für dimenticar Quanti pezzi di ricambio quante meraviglie quanti articoli di scambio quante belle figlie da giocar e quante belle valvole e pistoni fegati e polmoni e quante belle biglie a rotolar e quante belle triglie nel mar. Ottocento © 1990 Fabrizio De André/Mauro Pagani In "Ottocento," De André sings in the style of opera buffa and the song ends with Tyrolean yodeling, the idea being to describe 20th century society in 19th century style. He explains that "it's a style of singing falsely cultured, an approach suggested to me by the pomposity of a character who, more than a man, is a vacuum cleaner: he breathes in sweet sentiments, affections, vital organs and objects in front of him to which he displays a single mental attitude: the possibility of buying and selling them. . . . Here is painted a portrait of the bourgeoisie, in the exact moment of its affirmation of power: the world of the protagonist is dominated by money and by huge quantities of merchandise." The phrase "bronze of Versace" calls to mind the Riace Bronzes, a nice contrast between the superficial and fleeting beauty that pop culture craves and the more enduring beauty of past treasures of art.

Sing to me about this time, the hatred and the discontent of whoever is downwind and doesn’t want to smell the odor of this engine that carries us forward, almost everyone - males, females and singers - on a carpet of cash in the blue sky. Daughter of my family, you are a marvel, already mature and still pure like papa’s vegetables. Bold and handsome son, bronze of Versace, son ever more capable of playing in the markets, of raping while in motion, and you, wife of big sweaters, of many desires, expert in old junk, silver boxes I will give to you. The eighteen hundreds, the nineteen hundreds, fifteen hundred fine silver boxes of the late seventeen hundreds I'll give to you. How many spare parts, how many marvels, how many articles of exchange, how many beautiful daughters to marry, and how many good valves and pistons, livers and lungs! And how many pretty marbles to roll, and how many fine mullet fish in the sea! Son, son, poor son, you were handsome white and vermilion. Which shady business lost you in the waterway? Son, son, only mistake, drowned like a rabbit to hurt me, to stab my pride, to me, to me, who treated you like a son, poor me, tomorrow will go better. A little pinzimonio, wonderful marriage, sauerkraut and strawberries and limpets and clams, Zanzibar fishes and some donut early before sleeping, and waking up with the waltz and the Alka-Seltzer for forgetting. How many replacement parts, how many marvels, how many articles of exchange, how many beautiful daughters for playing, and how many good valves and pistons, livers and lungs! And how many pretty marbles to roll, and how many fine mullet fish in the sea! English translation © 2014 Dennis Criteser It took six years after the tremendous success of Creuza de mä for De André to release his next studio album, Le nuvole (The Clouds). In the meantime, he and Mauro Pagani explored several avenues of musical collaboration which did not come to fruition. De André had this to say about Le nuvole: "I realized that people are just pissed off, and since Le nuvole is a symbol of this dissatisfaction, the transference, the intermediary for this general discontent, I would say that the album was welcomed almost as a banner, like an emblem of the anger in the face of a nation that is going to the dogs, and certainly not through any fault of the citizens." Additionally, Mauro Pagani said the album was a fantastic description of Italy in the 1980s, with parallels to Europe in the early 1800s: "Italy in the early 1980s was like Europe in 1815: the Congress of Vienna, the fall of the Napoleonic empire, the sharing of the goods among the winning powers, social classes built on wealth instead of aristocracy, a society of fake Christianity . . ." The title of and inspiration for the album came from the comedy of the same name by Aristophanes, whom De André greatly admired.

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Le nuvole: Don Raffaè

Io mi chiamo Pasquale Cafiero e son brigadiere del carcere oinè io mi chiamo Cafiero Pasquale sto a Poggio Reale dal '53 e al centesimo catenaccio alla sera mi sento uno straccio per fortuna che al braccio speciale c'è un uomo geniale che parla co' me Tutto il giorno con quattro infamoni briganti, papponi, cornuti e lacchè tutte l'ore cò 'sta fetenzia che sputa minaccia e s'à piglia cò me ma alla fine m'assetto papale mi sbottono e mi leggo 'o giornale mi consiglio con don Raffae' mi spiega che penso e bevimm'ò cafè A che bell'ò cafè pure in carcere 'o sanno fa co' à ricetta ch'à Ciccirinella compagno di cella ci ha dato mammà Prima pagina venti notizie ventuno ingiustizie e lo Stato che fa si costerna, s'indigna, s'impegna poi getta la spugna con gran dignità mi scervello e mi asciugo la fronte per fortuna c'è chi mi risponde a quell'uomo sceltissimo immenso io chiedo consenso a don Raffaè Un galantuomo che tiene sei figli ha chiesto una casa e ci danno consigli mentre 'o assessore che Dio lo perdoni 'ndrento a 'e roullotte ci tiene i visoni voi vi basta una mossa una voce c'ha 'sto Cristo ci levano 'a croce con rispetto s'è fatto le tre volite 'a spremuta o volite 'o cafè A che bell'ò cafè pure in carcere 'o sanno fa co' à ricetta ch'à Ciccirinella compagno di cella ci ha dato mammà A che bell'ò cafè pure in carcere 'o sanno fa co' à ricetta ch'à Ciccirinella compagno di cella preciso a mammà Qui ci stà l'inflazione, la svalutazione e la borsa ce l'ha chi ce l'ha io non tengo compendio che chillo stipendio e un ambo se sogno 'a papà aggiungete mia figlia Innocenza vuo' marito non tiene pazienza non chiedo la grazia pe' me vi faccio la barba o la fate da sé Voi tenete un cappotto cammello che al maxi processo eravate 'o chiù bello un vestito gessato marrone così ci è sembrato alla televisione pe' 'ste nozze vi prego Eccellenza mi prestasse pe' fare presenza io già tengo le scarpe e 'o gillè gradite 'o Campari o volite 'o cafè A che bell'ò cafè pure in carcere 'o sanno fa co' à ricetta ch'à Ciccirinella compagno di cella ci ha dato mammà A che bell'ò cafè pure in carcere 'o sanno fa co' à ricetta ch'à Ciccirinella compagno di cella preciso a mamma Qui non c'è più decoro le carceri d'oro ma chi l'ha mai viste chissà chiste so' fatiscienti pe' chisto i fetienti se tengono l'immunità don Raffaè voi politicamente io ve lo giuro sarebbe 'no santo ma 'ca dinto voi state a pagà e fora chiss'atre se stanno a spassà A proposito tengo 'no frate che da quindici anni sta disoccupato chill'ha fatto cinquanta concorsi novanta domande e duecento ricorsi voi che date conforto e lavoro Eminenza vi bacio v'imploro chillo duorme co' mamma e co' me che crema d'Arabia ch'è chisto cafè Don Raffaè © 1990 Fabrizio De André/Mauro Pagani/Massimo Bubola "Don Raffaè" is based on the Italian crime boss Raffaele Cutolo, who has spent most of his life in prisons since 1963. Through his charisma and relational skills he was able to build and control a crime organization from within prison, and was also able to lead a remarkably comfortable life, complete with a personal chef to supply him his daily meals of lobster and wine. The chorus makes reference to Domenico Modugno's 1958 paean to coffee, "'O ccafe'", and to the importance of coffee in the cultural life of Naples.

My name is Pasquale Cafiero and I’m the prison C.O. Sergeant. My name is Cafiero Pasquale, I’ve been at Poggio Reale since ’53. And by the hundredth deadbolt of the evening I feel like a wet rag, lucky that in the special wing there’s a brilliant man who speaks with me. All day long with four villains – robbers, pimps, bastards and lackeys – all the hours with this rottenness that spews threats and that rags on me. But in the end I seat myself pope-like, I unbutton, and read me the paper. I consult with don Raffaè. He explains my thinking, and we drink coffee. Ah what great coffee – even in jail they know how to make it, with the recipe that cellmate Ciccirinella’s mama gave to him. Front page, twenty news items, twenty-one injustices, and what does the State do? It’s dismayed, it’s indignant, it makes a pledge, then it throws in the towel with great dignity. I puzzle over it, dry my forehead, luckily there is one who answers me. Of that man, immense and most refined, of don Raffaè I ask for his consensus. A gentleman, who has six children, requested a house and they gave advice, while the alderman, may God pardon him, raises minks inside these trailers. From you, one move, one voice is enough, for this Christ they take away the cross. With respect, it’s three o'clock, do you want the juice or do you want the coffee? Ah what great coffee – even in jail they know how to make it, with the recipe that cellmate Ciccirinella's mama gave to him. Ah what great coffee – even in jail they know how to make it, with the recipe of cellmate Ciccirinella, exactly like mama’s. Here there’s inflation, devaluation, and the stock market has it, whoever has it, I don’t hold a sum save for that salary of mine and two lottery numbers if I dream of papa. Add my daughter Innocenza. She wants a husband, she has no patience. I don’t beg for mercy for myself. Do I shave you or do you do it by yourself? You hold a camel hair coat that at the Maxi Trial you were the most handsome, a brown pinstripe suit, so it seemed on TV. For this wedding, I pray of you, your Excellence, lend it to me to make a good appearance. I already have the shoes and the vest, do you like the Campari or do you want the coffee? Ah what great coffee – even in jail they know how to make it, with the recipe that cellmate Ciccirinella’s mama gave to him. Ah what great coffee – even in jail they know how to make it, with the recipe of cellmate Ciccirinella, exactly like mama’s. Here there’s no more decorum, the prisons of gold - but who ever saw them, who knows? These are crumbling, for this reason the bastards keep their immunity. Don Raffaè – you, politically, I swear it, you'd be a saint. But here inside you have to pay, and outside these others are amusing themselves. Speaking of which, I have a brother who for fifteen years has been unemployed. That one’s done fifty competitive exams, ninety applications and two hundred appeals. You who give comfort and work, Your Eminence I kiss you, I implore you: that one sleeps with mama and with me. What cream of Arabia this coffee is! English translation © 2014 Dennis Criteser It took six years after the tremendous success of Creuza de mä for De André to release his next studio album, Le nuvole (The Clouds). In the meantime, he and Mauro Pagani explored several avenues of musical collaboration which did not come to fruition. De André had this to say about Le nuvole: "I realized that people are just pissed off, and since Le nuvole is a symbol of this dissatisfaction, the transference, the intermediary for this general discontent, I would say that the album was welcomed almost as a banner, like an emblem of the anger in the face of a nation that is going to the dogs, and certainly not through any fault of the citizens." Additionally, Mauro Pagani said the album was a fantastic description of Italy in the 1980s, with parallels to Europe in the early 1800s: "Italy in the early 1980s was like Europe in 1815: the Congress of Vienna, the fall of the Napoleonic empire, the sharing of the goods among the winning powers, social classes built on wealth instead of aristocracy, a society of fake Christianity . . ." The title of and inspiration for the album came from the comedy of the same name by Aristophanes, whom De André greatly admired.

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Le nuvole: La domenica delle salme - Corpse Sunday

Tentò la fuga in tram verso le sei del mattino dalla bottiglia di orzata dove galleggia Milano non fu difficile seguirlo il poeta della Baggina la sua anima accesa mandava luce di lampadina gli incendiarono il letto sulla strada di Trento riuscì a salvarsi dalla sua barba un pettirosso da combattimento I Polacchi non morirono subito e inginocchiati agli ultimi semafori rifacevano il trucco alle troie di regime lanciate verso il mare i trafficanti di saponette mettevano pancia verso est chi si convertiva nel novanta ne era dispensato nel novantuno la scimmia del quarto Reich ballava la polka sopra il muro e mentre si arrampicava le abbiamo visto tutto il culo la piramide di Cheope volle essere ricostruita in quel giorno di festa masso per masso schiavo per schiavo comunista per comunista La domenica delle salme non si udirono fucilate il gas esilarante presidiava le strade la domenica delle salme si portò via tutti i pensieri e le regine del ''tua culpa'' affollarono i parrucchieri Nell'assolata galera patria il secondo secondino disse a ''Baffi di Sego'' che era il primo -- si può fare domani sul far del mattino – e furono inviati messi fanti cavalli cani ed un somaro ad annunciare l'amputazione della gamba di Renato Curcio il carbonaro il ministro dei temporali in un tripudio di tromboni auspicava democrazia con la tovaglia sulle mani e le mani sui coglioni -- voglio vivere in una città dove all'ora dell'aperitivo non ci siano spargimenti di sangue o di detersivo – a tarda sera io e il mio illustre cugino De Andrade eravamo gli ultimi cittadini liberi di questa famosa città civile perché avevamo un cannone nel cortile un cannone nel cortile La domenica delle salme nessuno si fece male tutti a seguire il feretro del defunto ideale la domenica delle salme si sentiva cantare -quant'è bella giovinezza non vogliamo più invecchiare – Gli ultimi viandanti si ritirarono nelle catacombe accesero la televisione e ci guardarono cantare per una mezz'oretta poi ci mandarono a cagare -- voi che avete cantato sui trampoli e in ginocchio coi pianoforti a tracolla vestiti da Pinocchio voi che avete cantato per i longobardi e per i centralisti per l'Amazzonia e per la pecunia nei palastilisti e dai padri Maristi voi avevate voci potenti lingue allenate a battere il tamburo voi avevate voci potenti adatte per il vaffanculo — La domenica delle salme gli addetti alla nostalgia accompagnarono tra i flauti il cadavere di Utopia la domenica delle salme fu una domenica come tante il giorno dopo c'erano i segni di una pace terrificante mentre il cuore d'Italia da Palermo ad Aosta si gonfiava in un coro di vibrante protesta La domenica delle salme © 1990 Fabrizio De André/Mauro Pagani "La domenica delle salme" is one of De André's most political songs, full of references not easily discernible. The second verse refers to a Milan retirement home resident who was discovered dead under mysterious circumstances. The third verse may refer to a series of murders by a neo-Nazi duo who tagged themselves as Ludwig. The fourth verse refers to the Polish refugees who came to Italy after the fall of the Soviet Union and who worked the streets cleaning car windows (i.e., redoing the makeup of the capitalists heading off to the beach). The fifth verse refers to businessmen looking to profit from the opening of the countries of the former Soviet Union, and the sixth verse refers to the neo-Nazism that subsequently raised its head. The seventh verse may refer to the need for another visible symbol for members of the left and the right to use to close their ranks after the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989. The eighth verse depicts a state that controls its people not with guns but with a false sense of happiness. Later in the song, Renato Curcio was a founder of the radical group Red Brigades and is referred to as a "carbonaro," a member of the Carboneria, secret revolutionary societies in 19th century Italy. Curcio did not in real life have his leg amputated; that reference is to an event in a 1968 television production of an 1832 autobiographical novel, My Prisons, by Sylvio Pellico. The amputation was done without anesthesia, and afterwards the amputee gave the surgeon a rose. There's a reference to the Brazilian poet Oswald De Andrade, whose work De André admired for its anti-conformism and its sense of irony and sarcasm. You see references to the distant past (the Lombards), to a Roman Catholic religious institute (Society of Mary), to the death of communism and anarchism ("cadavers of Utopia"), and even to De André's tribe, singer/songwriters, who are cast as opportunists whose powerful voices have lost their relevance and whose message has devolved into a crude "fuck off!" In short, this song is a rich and mordant pastiche of images that create the picture of an Italy as a ridiculous tragedy where a coup d'etat of capitalism has resulted in a "terrifying peace." Note also how the title is a gruesome turn on Palm Sunday (La domenica delle palme), the celebration of which involves a procession of the faithful carrying palms. One can imagine instead a procession of the erstwhile foes of capitalism carrying the corpses of their vanquished brethren, yet ready to protest again.

He made a break for it on the tram around six in the morning, from the bottle of orgeat where floats Milan. It wasn’t difficult to follow him, the poet of the Baggina. His fired-up soul sent out the glow of a light bulb. They torched his bed on the road to Trent. He managed to save himself by the hair on his chin, an attack robin. The Poles didn’t die immediately and, bowed over at the last traffic lights, they redid the makeup on the whores of the regime launching off towards the sea. Traffickers of soap bars fattened themselves to the east. Whoever converted in ‘90 was excused in ’91. The ape of the fourth Reich danced the polka on top of the Wall, and while it clambered up we saw its entire bare ass. The pyramid of Cheops wanted to be rebuilt on that day of celebration, boulder by boulder, slave by slave, Communist by Communist. Corpse Sunday – no gun shots were heard, laughing gas was defending the streets. Corpse Sunday carried away all thoughts, and the queens of “it's your fault” filled the hair salons. In the sun-drenched state prison, the second prison guard said to “Greasy Mustache,” who was the first, “It can be done tomorrow at daybreak.” And emissaries were dispatched, infantrymen, horses, dogs and a donkey, to announce the amputation of the leg of Renato Curcio, the Carboneria member. The Minister of Storms, in an exultation of trombones, wished for democracy with a napkin on his hands and his hands on his balls. “I want to live in a city where when it’s time for aperitifs there’s no shedding of blood or of detergent.” Late in the evening, I and my distinguished cousin De Andrade were the last free citizens of this famous civilian city, because we had a cannon in the courtyard, a cannon in the courtyard. Corpse Sunday – no one got hurt, everyone following the casket of the fallen ideal. Corpse Sunday – one felt like singing “How beautiful youth is, we don’t want to get older anymore.” The last wayfarers retreated to the catacombs. They turned the TV on and watched us singing for half an hour, then they sent us off to shit. “You who have sung on stilts and on bended knee with pianos over your shoulders, dressed as Pinocchio, you who have sung for the Lombards and for the Centrists, for the Amazon and for the money, in corporate-named arenas and Marist Fathers' places, you had powerful voices, tongues trained to beat the drum. You had powerful voices well-suited for the ‘Fuck off!’” Corpse Sunday – the people in charge of nostalgia accompanied, amid the flutes, Utopia's cadaver. Corpse Sunday was a Sunday like so many others. The day after, there were signs of a terrifying peace while the heart of Italy from Palermo to Aosta swelled in a chorus of quivering protest. English translation © 2014 Dennis Criteser It took six years after the tremendous success of Creuza de mä for De André to release his next studio album, Le nuvole (The Clouds). In the meantime, he and Mauro Pagani explored several avenues of musical collaboration which did not come to fruition. De André had this to say about Le nuvole: "I realized that people are just pissed off, and since Le nuvole is a symbol of this dissatisfaction, the transference, the intermediary for this general discontent, I would say that the album was welcomed almost as a banner, like an emblem of the anger in the face of a nation that is going to the dogs, and certainly not through any fault of the citizens." Additionally, Mauro Pagani said the album was a fantastic description of Italy in the 1980s, with parallels to Europe in the early 1800s: "Italy in the early 1980s was like Europe in 1815: the Congress of Vienna, the fall of the Napoleonic empire, the sharing of the goods among the winning powers, social classes built on wealth instead of aristocracy, a society of fake Christianity . . ." The title of and inspiration for the album came from the comedy of the same name by Aristophanes, whom De André greatly admired.

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